


The Lost Boy

by LoreOfAris



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Astrology, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Darkness, Depression, Gen, Hope, Horns, Imagery, Magic, Male - Freeform, Mist, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pain, Past Abuse, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Sadness, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Stars, Symbolism, Taurus - Freeform, Tears, Traditional Astrology, autonomy, finding yourself, self-mastery, star signs, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreOfAris/pseuds/LoreOfAris
Summary: His tears yielded naivety. The darkness took his past and future away from him. The mist left uncertainty in its wake. His journey had been a long one, filled with pain and wrought with tension. He'd paid his dues, made his progress and found his path. But where would it lead him? After all he'd done, what did he deserve? And would it be good? One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Aris here! :3  
> I have a bunch of pieces written that I want to put up on Fiction Press, but this one is probably the one that means the most to me right now, so I decided to put this one up first.
> 
> It's deep, it's dark, it's angsty as fuck, but I actually like how it turned out in the end. Expect a lot of imagery and subtle motifs in there. I'm not trying to use professional devices - I never have - but this is my writing in it's purest form, after editing of course.
> 
> Feel free to give it a read and tell me how you find it :D
> 
> Credit to just . a . breeze . in . eternity (on FictionPress, remove the spaces), and klismaphilia (on here) for taking a look over this. I've been so busy lately, and their comments and critical eye really helped me to pull this together. Go and check them out! Thanks, you two :)

* * *

_**"Not all those who wander are lost." ~J. R. R. Tolkien** _

* * *

 

He was a lost boy in the dark. A man with two horns that he couldn't remove. A child that whimpered in the eyes of this cruel, horrible world, and all because the past had taken his dignity away from him. Perhaps this was why everyone hated him, or at least, that was what his mind told him every day. It was a little whisper in the back of his mind, a snide, teasing voice that withered him on the inside and made his smile droop like the crushed petals of a dying flower.

He was lost within himself. He fell into the depths of the eyes of others. He was scattered in the words on every written page of every written book.

Oh, how he dreamed.

He dreamed that one day, he would feel less broken. After all, he was the one who fixed problems and healed mental wounds, his words like magic that changed perspectives and made people better. He took away people's pain. He healed people where he could, and stayed as long as he was needed. And then, he knew that he would vanish into the night, into the fabrics of millions of pages across the web, and take a journey elsewhere, to another hurt soul that needed healing.

The problem with this was that he never helped _himself_.

Friends were interesting for him. Meeting new people was always scary, and not to mention incredibly awkward and embarrassing, but there were people who somehow remained at his side, come rain or shine. He turned to them and gave them gifts. He offered help. He offered laughter. He even offered his love.

But he was vulnerable as a boy, and thus he was taken advantage of in so many ways. He gave out more than he ever received, and bit by bit, his glass became empty, only a single drop of hope left, surrounded by emptiness. Despite his loyalty and faith, his friendships were fake, curated existences that were used against him, filled with empty promises spilling from cursed, lying lips. Love, be it platonic or romantic, was gentle at first, like satin or soft blankets against the skin. And then it struck, an unrequited feeling that left his confidence ashore, with the ship abandoned. Love's sting was so fierce that he was sure his wounds would never heal.

Some did.

Some didn't.

Back then, he was a whimpering child. He cried at everything and was so scared of the world that he never knew what to do, where to go, or how to react. He remembered the hot tears that warmed his cheeks as he cried his way through the months of every year, sobs racking his tiny body until...

No.

He was fixed then. Perhaps he could have been happy. But he broke eventually.

Suddenly, he found himself in the cold, empty, dark, a place that no child could step into. But this was his course. He wasn't a whimpering child anymore; he had a sense of cold uncaring to the world, a hard sense of nihilism that consumed him entirely. Nothing else mattered anymore. That darkness soon became his home, and he became the lost boy.

But the lost boy didn't stop there.

While on the outside he was cold, on the inside he was raw, highly emotional, sensitive and vulnerable. He'd garnered a shell with spikes, but it kept on breaking. He'd mustered up words to use as weapons, but those weapons failed to defend him when they flew back in his direction. He was defenseless.

So, he grew horns.

Not real horns of course, but metaphorical horns. Horns he used to defend himself so violently and so suddenly, that few could expect the sharp jab of his weapons that hit the heart so hard. He was fucked up, so fucked up that he knew it was too late to change now.

Except...was it really?

The darkness vanished, and he found the mist. The mist was warmer than the dark, but not warm enough. Nonetheless, it was enough for him to find himself in a world where he began to feel a bit better. Hope was on the horizon; he could see the sun through the mist, it's muffled glow hazy before his eyes. But even when the way wasn't clear, he was no longer the lost boy.

He was now a man with horns. He'd seen what good things could come of the world, and he began again. He was a hardened version of his past self, a cynical being that was careful, emotional, and defensive, yet still loving, warm and determined. He forgot about his horns, basking in the warmth of this new sun, but it was only a matter of time before he found them again, latched onto his head. Other people had weapons, but they could put them down and be kind. He could be kind, but he grew these horns. These horns could never be broken off of him. He had them forever.

Sometimes he hated those horns.

It was because the horns had a mind of their own, an anger that fueled his temper or his insecurity, and unintentionally, he would strike out and hurt those who were innocent. Often completely by accident, he projected his feelings onto them in the hopes that the darkness wouldn't drag him back into the lost depths of the cold abyss he'd known for so long.

Karma paid him badly for his crimes.

He wanted to find the sun, the grass, the flowers...but the mist was thick. He was so close now, he could taste the dew on his lips and the nectar on his tongue. He knew it would be sweet when he could smell the flowers and appreciate the world for what it truly was.

As the whimpering child, he was blinded by naivety. As the lost boy, he was blinded by the darkness. As the man with horns, he was blinded by the mist.

If only he could find the sun...

It was a myth that he'd heard of but never experienced.

He kept looking.

He found gloves for his horns eventually, although it was clear that they didn't do their job well. He pushed on forward. He'd struggled for so long and paid so many dear prices that it was time for him to be paid back a reward. He'd made mistakes, hurt people and damaged the world, like a bull in a china shop. His hooves had crushed eggshells.

Eventually, he found himself enlightened.

He couldn't control or change people that no longer cared for him. He couldn't ask for forgiveness where it clearly couldn't be given. If people were to leave him behind, then he would cut his ties. He saw ropes around everyone that connected to them him, and slowly, kindly, he cut off the ropes that tied to him to others. It wasn't a bad thing necessarily, but his horns, while sharp, had grown longer and like a sword. His horns were two swords he could sheath, but ones where he could cut through the mist and the uncertainty; cut through the bullshit and the vulnerability. He was raw, emotional, and loving. He still had his temper and his sadness and his messed up mind. But he put all of this in a box and gave it to a friend, who would only open it when he needed a reminder of who he once was, and who he wished to become.

With a wave of his hand, much like a sudden realisation and drastic development, he fixed himself. It wasn't a complete fix, and by no means was it perfect, but his own healing allowed his wounds to close slightly, for he learned to appreciate himself for what he was. The friend with the box, a person he knew well, had kept it for him, slowly beginning to unravel the tangled mess that he was, in order to make him free again.

At this new stage, the mist slowly began to clear, and he felt the sun's warmth upon his skin.

The man with horns named himself a Taurus. He was the misunderstood bull all along. People always thought he was angry or irritable, wild and untameable, but they were wrong. He would let people think about their stupid lies and shitty stories, and he would rise again. He was intelligent. He was strong. He was loving. He was the change he wanted to be in the world, the good he'd searched for since the day he'd been born.

He became a Taurus with his two tamed horns.

From then on, he was powerful.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, holy shit.
> 
> I still can't believe I wrote this.
> 
> Either way, thanks to anyone who was kind enough to read this! This writing piece was a very emotional journey, and I'm sure to many of you, it's fairly obvious what's it's about. Not my best writing, but it has its message.
> 
> I hope I didn't go too deep for you to follow but feel free to tell me what you think in reviews or through a PM. I'm always looking to improve my writing, and any criticism (and praise if you have some) would be greatly welcomed.
> 
> I hope your day is going well, and I hope things aren't too troubling. Give yourself a treat if you've had a hard time; you deserve it.
> 
> Over and out!  
> ~Aris


End file.
